


Overdosed on Confidence

by runphoebe



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Backwards Baseball Caps, Blow Jobs, M/M, OneGoalFic, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 21:02:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6582322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runphoebe/pseuds/runphoebe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Someone could -,” Jonny starts, breaking off when Patrick ducks down to draw Jonny’s lips against his, kissing him fever-hot and wet and desperate. Jonny’d be embarrassed by how hungrily he responds, but he knows Pat’s into it, moaning unashamedly into Jonny’s mouth when he tightens a hand around Pat’s neck. “Someone could see,” he finally gets out, voice rough, when Patrick pulls back, as if Patrick’s supposed to believe that that’s any sort of protest.</p><p>Patrick licks his lips, the hint of a smirk playing at the corners of them in that familiar way like when Patrick's got a particularly bad idea on his mind. “Guess you better be quick then, huh?” he says cryptically, waggling his eyebrows at Jonny. Jonny’s a second away from rolling his eyes and asking what he means when Patrick slithers off Jonny’s lap and onto his knees on the floor beneath Jonny’s table and - oh. Oh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overdosed on Confidence

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a larger frat AU I'd like to write someday if I ever get it planned out in my head beyond "Jonny and Kaner are in a frat together," but, you know, no promises. So references to 'the house' are the frat house where they live together in my mind. They share a room, ofc. Also, idk why they'd go by Tazer or Peeks in this AU so just pretend those are their frat nicknames b/c I like them. 
> 
> Title's from Headlines by Drake. 
> 
> See the End Notes for content warnings because this contains semi-public sex, so I don't want you to be squicked out about anything that goes along with that.

“Dude,” Patrick says, slamming an extra large Dunkin Donuts styrofoam cup in front of Jonny. Black coffee splashes over the lip, nearly sliding down onto Jonny’s stack of notes until he whisks them out of the way just in time. “What time do you think it is right now?”

Jonny blinks a few times, eyes struggling to focus on Pat’s face, the gentle curl of his hair under his backwards baseball cap. He looks tired, maybe, a little mussed, pillow creases lining the curve of his cheekbone. Jonny’s abruptly aware that he has no fucking clue what time it is; he’s been staring at diagrams of the human skeletal structure for what feels like the better part of a day and his anatomy midterm isn’t feeling any less insurmountable, except that now he’s fucking exhausted on top of it.

“Uh,” he says, rubbing a hand over his jawline and leaning back in his chair. “Nine… thirty?” he hazards, wincing when Patrick makes a face at him.

“ _Dude_ ,” Patrick says again, eyes narrow, arms crossed over his chest. It makes his shirt pull tight over his deltoids, traps tensed all high and tight, but Jonny keeps that to himself since Patrick does not enjoy Jonny’s new anatomical knowledge being used to appreciate his musculature. “It’s almost one in the morning. I was gonna give you that coffee, but I think you just need to get some sleep.”

That’s - _huh_. Jonny looks around, taking in the emptiness around him. He’s tucked away in a back corner of the stacks anyway, so it’s not like this is a super hopping section of the library even in the middle of the day, but right now he and Patrick are the only ones here.

“Give me the coffee,” he says, demanding, a little whiny. “I need it. I still have two chapters left.”

“Fuck, man, you need to turn your brain off for a while or you’re gonna pass out during your test,” Patrick says, coming around the table to sit next to him. “Don’t think you’ll end up with an A if you drool all over it.”

Jonny’s about to snark back, but he’s just - he’s _so_ fucking tired, he feels like his brain’s firing a second too slow, drifting a moment too long between one thought and the next. He scrubs at his eyes and when he opens them back up again, Pat’s looking at him with a strangely soft expression on his face.

“C’mon, Jonny,” he says, grinning fondly, reaching up to scratch gently at Jonny’s hairline at the back of his neck. “You need to relax. Come on back to the house and I’ll help you, yeah?”

And the thing is, Jonny and Patrick have been hooking up for months now, sleeping in the same bed nearly every night, but the thought of going home with Patrick and fucking him through the mattress still has Jonny going hot and shivery all over in a matter of seconds. Or maybe going home with him and letting Pat ride him nice and easy, _shit,_ yeah, he could just lay there and let Pat do all the work.

God, he so doesn’t have time for this, but Pat’s cheeky little grin and his long blond lashes shadowing down his cheeks are as hard to resist as they’ve ever been. Jonny closes his eyes, swallowing around the sudden rush of saliva in his mouth. “I can’t,” he says, not even sounding convincing to his own ears.

Patrick’s hand drops to the nape of his neck, thumb digging into a knot of muscle in his shoulder. “So tense here, baby,” he says, following the press of his thumb with the gentle brush of his lips, skirting the neckline of his t-shirt. It looks like an awkward position for Pat’s neck, and he must agree, because a second later he’s lifting one leg over Jonny’s thighs, straddling his lap and making Jonny take his weight. The library chairs aren’t built for the width of two fully grown dudes, and Jonny has to grab onto Patrick’s hips to steady him, fingers bunching in the fabric of his grey sweatpants.

God, Patrick’s such a mess; ratty Sig Ep t-shirt with stains that Jonny hopes are from coffee or beer, grey sweatpants that are long enough that Jonny suspects they belong to him and the ever present backwards cap, hiding the curls Jonny loves to thread his fingers through. He’s making Jonny hard as fuck in his basketball shorts and he knows it, grinding down on Jonny’s dick with intent.

“We’re in a fucking library, you dick,” Jonny hisses, fingertips flexing under the hem of Pat’s shirt, brushing against his soft skin.

Patrick snorts. “Worried about an audience?” he asks, licking his lower lip, sucking it into his mouth. He turns his head from side to side, tendons pulling along the twist of his throat as he examines the emptiness of the stacks. “Think you’re the last holdout, champ.”

“Someone could -,” Jonny starts, breaking off when Patrick ducks down to draw Jonny’s lips against his, kissing him fever-hot and wet and desperate. Jonny’d be embarrassed by how hungrily he responds, but he knows Pat’s into it, moaning unashamedly into Jonny’s mouth when he tightens a hand around Pat’s neck. “Someone could see,” he finally gets out, voice rough, when Patrick pulls back, as if Patrick’s supposed to believe that that’s any sort of protest.

Patrick licks his lips, the hint of a smirk playing at the corners of them in that familiar way like when Patrick's got a particularly bad idea on his mind. “Guess you better be quick then, huh?” he says cryptically, waggling his eyebrows at Jonny. Jonny’s a second away from rolling his eyes and asking what he means when Patrick slithers off Jonny’s lap and onto his knees on the floor beneath Jonny’s table and - oh. _Oh_.

Patrick grasps Jonny’s knees in his hands and tugs them apart, giving himself room to get comfortable in between them and _shit_ , he actually thinks he’s going to _blow_ Jonny in the library right now. He’s out of his fucking mind; they can’t seriously be this crazy, even if his dick seems to disagree, getting even thicker in his shorts, helplessly aroused by the promise of Patrick’s mouth.

“ _Pat_ ,” he gasps, fighting against the urge to thrust up. It’s not even like it’s that much of a risk, honestly, not with how well-hidden Patrick is under the table, blocked by the row of chairs on the other side, but Jonny doesn’t think he’s capable of being quiet when Patrick’s sucking his dick and he can’t fathom the consequences of getting caught. “Pat, what the hell -,”

“Orgasms relax you more than anyone I’ve ever met, Taze,” Patrick says, looking up at Jonny through his long lashes, cheeks flushed attractively. His fingers dance along the edges of the waistband of Jonny’s shorts, starting to hint at tugging them down. “And you need to fuckin’ relax, so if you’re not gonna come back to the house with me,” he shrugs, pulling the elastic down just enough to reveal Jonny’s hard cock, tucking it under his balls so it stays in place.

Jonny groans, wishing Patrick weren’t wearing that dumbass hat so he could thread his fingers through his hair, tight against his scalp, urge Patrick’s mouth down onto his dick. It’s not like he thinks this is a good idea, but, shit. Pat’s tongue is so pink and wet when it darts out of his mouth to lick his lips and Jonny wants that on him right the fuck now, and that kind of trumps any attempt at higher level thinking.

“Come the fuck on, then,” Jonny finally says, taking his cock in his hand and holding it there for Patrick’s mouth, tugging back the foreskin to reveal the damp head. “If you want it, come on.”

Patrick grins, satisfied as hell, before he slides his hands up Jonny’s thighs under the basketball shorts, squeezing tight and taking the head of Jonny’s cock delicately into his mouth at the same time. It’s so gentle that Jonny can’t help the whine that comes out of his mouth, overwhelmed by the careful stimulation and desperate for more, hips shifting restlessly when Patrick pulls back.

“You gotta be quiet, Jonny,” he says, cheeky little half-grin on his face.

“Get back on my dick,” Jonny groans, chasing the exhalation of breath that drifts across the dampened head of it.

“Try not to wake up the security guard two floors down,” Patrick snarks, then he swallows Jonny all the way down, lips pressed against his pubic hair as his throat works around Jonny’s cock. Jonny has to bite his fist to keep a groan from wrenching from deep within his chest.

“Jesus, _fuck,_ ” he whispers, pressing a shaky palm to the curve of Patrick’s head as he sets up a rhythm, taking Jonny deep each time, then pulling all the way up to the head with long, slow glides of his hot mouth. When he opens his eyes up at Jonny, all starry-blue and curly blonde lashes, Jonny has to let his head fall back with a groan, hands coming to grip the side of his chair.

“Can I -,” he starts to ask, but thinks better of it since he knows what Patrick likes. His hand cups Patrick’s head again and he says, “I’m gonna fuck your mouth a little bit, okay, Peeks?” he says, bracing himself with the hand still on his chair and starting to fuck in.

Patrick stills instantly, moaning so loudly around Jonny’s cock it’s like he’s completely forgotten his earlier demands for silence. He can take this - _loves_ taking it more than anyone Jonny’s ever met, and Jonny fucking loves giving it to him, loves the clutch of his tight throat, the hollow of his cheeks when Jonny pulls out, the fat tears that leak out of his eyes. “That’s it,” he says, feeding his cock in further on each thrust, hand tight on Patrick’s backwards cap. “Taking all of it, Peeks, look at you. On your fuckin’ knees in the middle of the library for me.”

Patrick’s eyes flash open again, looking up at Jonny with a lot of desire and a hint of mirth, bright and so fucking beautiful. Jonny’s so fucking into him.

He pushes back a little against Jonny’s hand, letting him know that he’s done letting Jonny run things. This is his show. And that’s - fuck, it’s always Patrick’s show. Jonny might be the one who displays the illusion of control in bed, but Patrick has him wrapped around his finger and he knows it. So Jonny eases back, settling into his seat and letting the pressure of his hand against Patrick’s skull gentle into an easy reminder of his presence, something grounding instead of something demanding.

“Can’t believe you’d get on your knees for me _,_ ” Jonny says, tracing the jut of Patrick’s cheekbone, thumbing at the stretched corner of his mouth. Patrick takes Jonny’s hand and flattens it against his cheek, letting him feel the press of his cock when he pushes in just a little, how wide Patrick has to open to accommodate it. When Jonny thumbs at the soft skin under his eye, it’s wet with tears, and Jonny groans, balls starting to clench up.

“Gonna come, Taze?” Patrick asks roughly, pulling back and jacking Jonny with his hand. His lips are swollen, cheeks red and eyes spilling over with tears, hat all askew from where Jonny’s been grabbing it. He’s a mess, always such a fucking mess, and Jonny _loves_ him. “Gonna come in my mouth?”

“Fuck, yeah,” Jonny pants, closing his hand over Patrick’s and helping guide his cock back in his mouth. “Gotta swallow it all for me, babe, can’t make a mess in here.”

Patrick’s good, though, closing his mouth back over Jonny and giving him more of that ridiculous suction, drawing the orgasm out of him so quickly that Jonny just has to hold on as best he can, one hand gripping the edge of his seat and the other finally knocking off Patrick’s hat to twist his fingers through his hair. It’s a long, powerful orgasm, balls releasing rhythmically as he spills into Patrick’s mouth, but Patrick doesn’t complain, whining when Jonny finally pulls back.

“Lemme…” Jonny says, gripping Patrick’s jaw before he has a chance to swallow. Patrick drops his mouth open obediently, showing Jonny the pool of come in his mouth, eyes all lit up with pleasure.

“Jesus,” Jonny groans, collapsing back in his chair and tossing an arm over his eyes as Patrick snaps his mouth closed, throat working as he swallows it all down.

“You’re a fucking freak, Jonny,” Patrick says happily from the floor, wiping a hand over his wet mouth when Jonny peers down at him.

“Says the guy who blew me in the fuckin’ library,” Jonny says, rolling his eyes even as he tugs his shorts back over his softening dick, then reaches down to help Patrick up, tugging him back onto his lap. Patrick’s right; orgasms really do relax him, and they make him a little clingy, too, so if he needs to take a minute or two to cuddle, he can’t be blamed.  

“That was for your own good,” Patrick says, letting Jonny bury his face in his neck. He’s hard in his sweats, a little damp spot at the tip, and Jonny reaches for his cock, but Patrick stops him gently. “I’m good. Later, maybe.”

“You sure?” Jonny asks, lips catching on the stubble just under Patrick’s jaw.

“Make it up to me after your test tomorrow,” Patrick suggests wryly. “You owe me, big time.”

“Shit,” Jonny snorts. “Your altruism is off the charts, Peeks.”

“Hush,” Patrick scolds, cupping his hand around the back of Jonny’s head and scratching his nails softly against his scalp, letting his face stay pressed against Patrick’s throat. “You’re going to ruin all of my hard work.”

And Jonny would argue, but - nah. He feels way too fucking good. Instead, he closes his eyes and lets Patrick hold him and just drifts.

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warnings: Semi-Public Sex involving Patrick blowing Jonny under a table in a completely empty library after midnight. It's Patrick's idea and Jonny is super surprised at first, but then super into it. SUPER MINOR comeplay, in that Jonny comes in Patrick's mouth and then makes Patrick show him before he swallows. 
> 
> Come hmu on [tumblr](http://runphoebe.tumblr.com) where I post almost entirely Chicago Blackhawks and cry about Jonathan Toews and PKane. I s2g I'm going to try to fulfill the rest of my One Goal fic challenges (but they prob won't all be this long. Actually, what am I saying. I am physically incapable of writing anything under 2000 words).


End file.
